


If Loving You is Wrong

by merisoo



Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Pining, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22314460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merisoo/pseuds/merisoo
Summary: Touching Macy doesn’t feel like the right thing at all except it does.
Relationships: Harry Greenwood/Macy Vaughn
Comments: 11
Kudos: 48





	If Loving You is Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long time since I've wanted to actively write all the things for a ship. I'm enjoying this too much.

When Macy slips into the house it’s well past midnight and the taste of Julian is an echo in her mouth. She’s leaning against the front door, eyes closed in remembrance and smiling softly when Harry finds her. 

“Macy.” 

Macy startles, her hand automatically raising to summon her powers before she realizes who’s called her. Harry, never worried about how easily she could hurt him, raises his hands as if in surrender and quirks a small smile at her. 

“I mean you no harm.” He quips and Macy thinks ‘if only’. 

“What are you doing up so late?” She asks. 

She shuffles away from the door, turning to hang up her winter coat and missing his sharp intake of breath as she does. Harry swallows against the combination of jealousy and desire that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. It’s no red dress, but Harry can't stop the images it produces in his mind at the thought. The red top she wears, tucked into the waist of her black jeans, is sinfully tight. The material clinging in a way Harry finds himself envious of. The one strap design has left the majority of her shoulders bare and his fingers itch to reach out and touch. To trace the curve of her neck down to her collarbone and let his tongue follow the same path. 

He tears his eyes away from her backside just as she turns to face him again. 

“Waiting for you actually.” He finally responds. 

Macy raises a brow, her eyes flitting across his face as if searching for the truth in his words. 

“Hmmm.” She hums before moving past him and into the kitchen. 

Harry follows, a feeling of guilt coiling in his center, an echo from the night he’d kissed Abigail that he tries to shake off. He doesn’t like this new dynamic between him and the eldest Charmed One. There’s an underlying layer of doubt, bordering on distrust, that seems to accompany all their interactions as of late and Harry has no idea how to begin rectifying it. 

Macy makes her way towards the fridge, rolling her eyes when she hears Harry’s footsteps behind her. Not for the first time, she finds herself wishing he’d just leave. A small part of her thinks how much easier it’d be for her sanity if he did. She promptly pushes the thought away. Harry hadn’t asked for his deepest thoughts to be heard. She’d been the one to open Pandora’s box and unleash this soap opera of hell between them. 

Irritated that once again she’s defending him in her own mind, Macy slams the fridge door. She squeezes her eyes closed, raising the cold bottle of water to her forehead in the hopes of cooling her raging thoughts. All she had wanted was one night to be with a man who came with no complications. The universe couldn’t even grant her that. 

She sighs, more than ready to call it a night. 

“Harr- oh.” Macy gasps. 

Harry, standing far closer to her than he’d been only moments before, rests the full weight of both palms on her shoulders. 

“You’re tense.” He states. 

‘No shit.’ Macy thinks, goosebumps rising along her arms. 

Harry exhales as he presses his fingers against her skin. She’s soft and warm and he’s standing so close that he can pick up the smell of her body butter. He inhales deeply, taking in the coconut-infused shampoo that she always uses for her hair. He doesn’t bother examining why he felt touching her was necessary, even as his hands move to knead at the muscles of her upper back; the pads of his fingers grazing against the curve of her neck before dipping back down. All Harry can hear in his head is Macy’s voice, ‘you did the right thing’. Touching Macy doesn’t feel like the right thing at all except it does and Harry feels as though his version of right and wrong are beginning to merge in dangerous ways. He applies more pressure when he feels her begin to relax, her arms dropping down to her sides. 

Macy’s eyes close and her head falls forward on its own accord, silent, unconscious permission she grants him to keep going. The heat of his hands leaves a blaze across her skin that has turned her mind to smoke. She feels lost in the haze of it. The echo of Julian in her mouth being replaced by the smell of Harry around her. A sharp spice with hints of vanilla and musk that leaves her lightheaded. The more she relaxes the more Harry finds himself leaning further into her, the front of his chest grazing her back with each inhale. The impromptu massage has slowly turned into a gentle caress, his hands memorizing the feel of her. He leans his head forward, her dark curls tickling his nose and forehead. 

“Macy.” he exhales. 

At the sound of her name, Macy startles. Her eyes fly open and she spins around, pressing herself back against the fridge. The bottle of water in her hand falls, the sound of plastic hitting the wooden floor the only noise in the quiet house. Neither of them pays it any mind. Macy stares at Harry, the pounding of her heart reverberating loudly in her ears. She feels the warmth in her cheeks at the same time that her body shivers at the loss of his touch. He’s still so close, the look he gives her leaving her confused and hopeful and angry all at once. 

“What are you doing?” She asks. 

The real question she wants an answer to stuck somewhere at the back of her throat. 

Harry swallows, the response he wants to give sticking to the roof of his mouth. Do the right thing he thinks, but he’s not sure he knows what that is anymore. 

“Were you with him tonight?” comes out instead. 

Macy rears back from the question as if he’d struck her. That he would question her about who she’s been with when he’d allowed...Macy refuses to finish the thought, a sound of disgust escaping from her. 

“Which one?” She spits out, letting the implication hang between them. 

Harry’s face falls, the look of hurt and sadness he wears so raw that Macy has to clench her fingers to keep from reaching out to him. She focuses instead on the sharp sting of her nails against her palms and the burn in her heart. 

Harry nods his head, knowing there is no right way for him to respond. He averts his gaze from hers and steps to the side, not looking up as she makes her escape, moving quickly past him and out of the kitchen. His eyes shut at the same time he hears the soft closing of her bedroom door. It feels as though a cement block has been placed against his chest and every breath is strenuous. Loving Macy Vaughn surely can’t be the right thing, he thinks. Nothing that hurts this much could be.


End file.
